Chapter 1: The City of Joy and Madness


Blake made a new friend, and by complete accident. Somehow, she didn't seem to mind it all that much.

Now, if anyone ever assumed that she was in any ways antisocial, she wasn't (no matter what Yang says). It was simply the fact that her childhood involved her devoting much of her life to the White Fang. She'd stuck by even when they'd turned to more violent methods, which made socializing that much harder.

Oh, but she did have friends. Ilia was one such example, although theirs was a little… ahem. Awkward. And Adam counted as one, although they went from childhood friends to lovers and finally complicated. And there was… uhh…

Blake suddenly paused in the middle of the corridor, eyes wide. Her companion stopped a moment after when he realized she wasn't walking with him, turning to regard her with a confused look. "Blake? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's… just me coming to terms with something," namely the fact that she didn't have a lot of friends growing up, and that the only two people she was close with were both interested in her in an awkward way. She winced.

"Oof. Probably isn't as bad as you think it is?"

"Coming from you, my issue really does make me seem kind of pathetic," the girl sighed. "No, it's just me realizing that I didn't have a lot of friends back when I was a kid. A few here and there, but never enough to really call close, you know?"

"Ahh… Yeah, that kind of sucks."

"What about you?" She asked then, moving to join him. They began walking once more.

"Me? Well, there's nothing all that special about me," he said with a shrug. "Ansel's a little place, so everyone knows everyone. Even then, I'd still say that I'm more closer with everyone here than I was with any of the people my age back home. Besides, I was one of the unpopular kids."

She cringed when he called himself that, having thought that he filled the role rather perfectly, what with his relative averageness. "That's…"

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'm not as upset about it as you think I am," his laughter helped ease her guilt. "And it's like I said, I'm comfortable here. I wouldn't think to trade that for anything."

"I see… Say, talking about schooling. Why didn't you go to a huntsman prep school, or even got training?"

"Ah… That's a little hard to explain," the way he said it, as well as how he rubbed the back of his neck, meant that it was relatively serious. He pushed on before she could tell him to drop it. "My dad was always against me picking up the sword. Said that the life of a huntsman is dangerous, so he'd wanted to keep me away from it. That literally meant he wouldn't let me get any form of exposure to that life, be it training or even going to a school. Though, it's also partly my fault."

"It is?"

"Sort of. I was always a lazy kid. Never really thought about my future goals and stuff. Always going with the flow. I suppose my dad didn't think I was capable of truly pursuing my dream, so he'd thought I wouldn't do it."

And yet, here he was. Not exactly in the best of standings, but he was working to improve that. That, alone, meant that he had the right to be here with the rest of them, no matter what others thought about him.

After all, if she thought about it, the both of them weren't any different. Sure, Blake had been trained in combat thanks to her time serving as a White Fang member, but she had still been a part of a dangerous organization. She had hurt people before. In that aspect alone, Jaune was innocent, and that black stain should have marred her from coming here.

And yet, the headmaster had not sought to push her out of his academy. He'd accepted her, and Jaune, and that meant he trusted in them.

That single thought has her feeling a little lighter, grinning back at her newly-made friend. "Well, then you'd better not give up so early, right? Otherwise, all the effort you've put in and all the help Pyrrha and Ruby have given you will go to waste."

"Yeah… Yeah, that's true!" He nodded, determination renewed. "It's not just about me anymore. I've got a team to consider, and I'll be a worthy leader! I'll work hard to earn their trust!"

Idiot. His teammates love him already. Heck, his partner likes-likes him, even if he was openly flirting with Weiss like there wasn't a tomorrow. Still, no need to rain on his parade.

As the two of them reach their rooms, Blake waved him goodbye as he did the same, retreating into his room and greeted with bombastic cheer. The faunus chuckled, unlocking her room with her scroll before stepping inside. Just another day in Beacon.


Mondays. Urgh. How she despised them so. The start of the week, promising five whole days of lessons, assignments and exhaustion.

Blake groaned into her pillow as she turned on her bed, reminded of a meme she'd once see online about how each weekday was a contribution to a person's laziness; the Monday blues, Tuesday having remnants of Monday's blues, Wednesday being the middle of the week, Thursday being the second last day to freedom, and Friday signalling the end. A person is only alive during the weekends.

Frankly, she was quite ready to believe it. She didn't want to go to classes.

'Get up already,' she chastised herself in her mind. 'Get to the showers before all the hot water is stolen.'

That alone was enough to force her awake, twisting herself about to press her padded feet on—gah! Cold! The floor was too cold!

Burying her hiss underneath a throaty grumble, the girl forced herself into the bathroom with a towel and her toiletries, making full use of her early rise to get a good hot shower in. Add some nice shower scrub and lavender-scented shampoo, and you've got a recipe for a good start.

And she made sure not to use all the hot water because, unlike a certain someone, she wasn't going to hog all good things for herself.

Stepping out of the bathroom, it was only a matter of seconds before a blonde blur rushed past her, locking the door with haste. Immediately after, Weiss threw herself at the door, rapping at the surface.

"Yang Xiao Long! Get out here! I am not going to shower cold!"

"Lalala, I can't hear you!"

Ignoring the heiress's growling as well as her snoozing leader, Blake got through the motions of dressing herself up. The sound of rushing water ran in the background, outdone by the explosive argument that the 'W' and 'Y' of their team were having. Simply put, a Beacon day like any other.

Pulling out her scroll, she glanced at the timetable and inwardly cringed at how packed this week was going to be. The only saving grace would be the fact that Thursday would have two lessons cancelled because the teachers have to go for some conference, something which she would happily accept.

Choosing to ignore her worries for how packed the schedule, she opted to just sit on her bed and look through her lecture notes—pre-reading was never exactly her thing, though she could do with some additional effort every now and then. As she did so, the rest of her team busied themselves preparing for the day.

A knock on the door catches all of her attention, followed by a familiar voice. "Heeey, Ruby. You girls done?"

"Just a little longer!" Ruby hollered back, putting on her hood.

"Just making sure. Nora asked me to go check in on y'all in case you overslept."

Gee, she sure appreciated the level of trust in their ability to look after themselves. The girls shared a collective eyeroll.

It took a little while for them to finally be done, grab their stuff and head out the door. Thankfully, they had quite some time for breakfast, so rushing wouldn't be necessary. Weiss would make a big fuss over things if they were ever late for class like the first day—man, aren't the memories fresh but old at the same time.

"Yo!" Her partner greeted to their sister team, who were all already waiting outside for them. "Y'all waited for us or something? Sheesh. Talk about early."

"It just happened by chance. And morning to all of you," Jaune spared a nod for everyone there. Even one for her, which she returned. And then, his grin turned a little roguish (or, well, he tried to make it seem that way) as he winked at Weiss. "And to you as well, Snow Angel."

Like always, her reaction is less than pleased by this, expression pinched. "Urgh. Spare me your nonsense, Arc. I don't need your stupidity this early in the morning."

From Weiss' upfront chagrin to Jaune sweat-dropping at his failed flirt, to everyone else's amusement and Pyrrha's faltering grin, this was really a normal morning for her.

Everyone walked to the cafeteria together, Nora, Yang and Ruby providing the bulk of the conversation. Most of the words flew over her head, though she did perk up when the reaper mentioned a field assignment to come in the next three days. Well, at least it would be something different.

Arriving at the cafeteria, its grand hall is ever stupefying as it always is. They pick out a spot close to the entrance, all the easier to leave the place in case they wanted to go early.

"Alright, whose turn is it to watch the tables this time?" Nora asked. It was a system they put in place to have two people—one from each team—to guard their table while the others would go to get their food.

"It's mine," Jaune said. "I'll keep watch."

"And Blake's, if I remember properly," Weiss hummed. "Blake, is that fine with you?"

…Wait, really? It's her turn to watch the table? Her eyes met Jaune's for a moment before she nodded back, wordlessly. The rest of their friends took that cue to leave and grab their breakfast. Jaune then took his seat at one corner, while Blake opted to take the seat opposite of him.

And then, silence.

For a while, neither of them said or did anything. The boy in front of her simply fiddled his thumbs while she stared at the surface of the table.

Well… this is awkward.

Blake recalled the times when she had stayed behind to watch the table, though it had never been with Jaune thus far. She'd done so with Nora and Ren, and those two… well, Nora never stopped talking, and she'd just responded wherever necessary, whereas Ren just didn't talk a whole lot, which spared her the trouble.

Now that she thought about it, she doesn't really talk all that much with anyone outside of her team. Sure, she makes sure to respond when asked a question or two, but she'd never really made much conversation. Initiating it was rare for her, and she was used to giving short and simple answers. The same applied for her team too.

'Urgh. This is ridiculous. Was I always this bad at socializing, and I just never realized it?'

To be fair, that was never all that important back then. As a White Fang member, communication never really mattered as being able to fight. She kind of wished she had worked on that, though, if only to spare her this weird mood.

"So," Jaune began, breaking her out of her thoughts. He spread his arms on the table, grinning. "I'm feeling a little dumb. You?"

"Same," admitting that was easy enough, sigh coming after. "Honestly, I'm not sure what to say. This is the first time I've had to watch the table with you, and since we've never talked much before this, I literally don't know what to say to you. So much for being friends…"

"Hey, I'm pretty sure that's just part of the friend process," he offered. "I mean, my mom always said that strangers are just friends you've never met yet. And sure, you'd need some time to warm up to them. And soon enough, you'll be good."

"I suppose…"

"Although, having something to talk about would really help a lot, huh?"

It really would. "Any ideas?"

"Looking forward to Professor Port's tall tales?" Her groan was answer enough. Jaune just laughed. "Yeah, figured as much. You and just about the entire student body."

"I seriously don't get how he could have the gall to tell such romanticized stories to us. They're unrealistic in every way, shape and form. Even Weiss, for how much she tries to be patient, has complained about his eccentricities once or twice."

"Well, that's just part of his charm, I suppose," no. No, he was not going to use that excuse. She made her glare very obvious. "Hah. Alright, alright. We'll agree to disagree, or something along those lines. How about combat class? Looking forward to fighting anyone?"

"I don't care much about it," she shrugged. "I personally don't care too much about finding someone to fight. Yang and Nora, on the other hand…"

"Hah, no kidding. Nora, especially, is always excited to get into the swing of things. All about 'breaking people's legs'."

Blake was about to snort at that, though she stopped last minute to consider the idea. "Does she actually…"

"Honestly, I'm not sure…" The fact that he hadn't outright denied it made her wince. He gave her a weak smile. "I'm pretty sure she jokes most of the times, but if there was a situation where she could actually do it if someone insults her or one of us? I'd bet both of my kidneys that she'd go ahead with it."

Oh, joy. "Oh, joy…"

"But I'm sure she means well. She's… Nora."

"She's Nora, huh? Somehow, that answers just about everything there is to know about her," and despite all her quirks, Blake saw nothing but a really friendly girl who cared about her partner and all her friends. That kind of trait isn't something most people have, and it's one that she finds refreshing, even if the girl can be overbearing at times.

"Yeah…"

"…We are really bad at this."

"Are we? I think this is pretty okay."

"Really? You're actually serious?" Because if his idea of something being 'okay' involved the two of them sitting in front of each other with literally nothing to say, then his expectations of social norms must be pretty low.

"I mean, sure, we've never talked before. In class, or during training, or anything. Not like I'm saying it's your fault or anything," he added hurriedly—sweet of him, but technically true. She does say very little. "But the fact that we're talking at all now is an improvement, still. Er, sort of? Going from a zero to a one is still a net positive…"

Somehow, she doubted that was how it works, though there was some truth to his words.

Not all friendships have to start off perfect, even if his first here in Beacon was practically that; Ruby and Jaune had gone from strangers to awkward friends to best buddies (well, he counts as Ruby's best guy friend, since Weiss occupies the true seat of bestie) in such little time, but trying to base her friendship with Jaune that way would be a little unfair to them. After all, where Ruby and Jaune had the benefits of sharing many similarities, she didn't.

So really, going at it slow and steadily despite all the initial awkwardness was fine. Things can still work out in the end. She needn't look any further than Ruby and Weiss, who'd started off on the wrong foot before becoming the close pair that they are now.

Hmm. Now that she thought about it, her friendship with Jaune's could be classified as rather abrupt, since she'd technically forced herself upon him because of her insistence to look at whatever he'd been trying to hide. She winced at that. Some first impression.

'Well, so long as no one comes out of this hurt, I suppose…'

"Say, Blake, you busy later today?" The boy's voice put a brake to her running thoughts, eyes focused on him once more as he smiled at her.

"Err. No, I shouldn't be," no plans for training or outings to the city, as far as she could recall. "Why?"

"Well, I was thinking if you'd wanna' head to the library with me? I got a new story I cooked up last night."

"Really?" Amber eyes blinked. "That's fast. I thought you said you were going to improve them a little more?"

"Well, yeah, but I only managed to work on one. Hadn't been easy, trying to find the time to work on it—between homework, notes and training, it was a little tough," he shuddered. "Still, I got to finish one short story. A proper one, actually, and I think it came out really well," he grinned, sounding rather proud of it. "It's a little more on the psychological aspect, but I think you'll enjoy it regardless."

Ooh, now that's interesting. Blake had never been against psychological thriller tales, knowing just how effective they were at putting you in the mood and leaving you mentally and emotionally disturbed at the end of the read. That wasn't easy to pull off at times, but if done well, could become an experience unlike any other.

"Well, you sure work fast…"

"Guess I got motivated to do it. After we talked together two days ago, I got a little excited to work on my writing a bit more. Then I saw this one. It was an idea I had for a few years now, though I'd never properly penned it. Until now, that is."

"That so? Should be a good one, then."

"Ehh, you'll be the judge of that when you actually read it later," he paused midway through his excited tirade, then slowly turned a shade of red as he raised both hands. "O-Only if you want to, of course! Not like you need to, or anything. Just…"

How is this the guy who writes scary stuff? Usually, people who are able to make those kinds of things were touched in the head or something, yet here is this guy, proving to the world that he was nothing but sunshine and rainbows, geeky and all-too-easily flustered by the littlest things in the world.

Stifling her giggle into her hand, she nodded back. "I'd love to," she said, honest.

"R-Really? Oh, cool," he let out a sigh of relief. "That's… Well, cool!" He repeated, a little chirpier. "Then… what time do you wanna' meet?"

"An hour after classes end. We can both meet up after."

"Sure thing."

Their conversation ended there when the rest of their friends returned to the table, allowing her and Jaune to go and grab their food next. Although, at this rate, she was more interested in burying her nose in a good book than actually eating.

"Oh yeah, I remember someone mentioning that there's tuna melt sandwich today. I wonder if there's still some left."

On second thought, breakfast just sounded like a godsend.


The rest of the day went on like usual, the homework thankfully light this time. Thankfully, there was no such drama to deal with, so everything pretty much went swimmingly.

After she had her shower and was dressed in her combat attire (as far as she was concerned, while students are on academy grounds, a student is only ever allowed to don either their battle outfit or their uniforms. Weird, but not the worst thing in the world), she was ready to go meet up with Jaune in the library.

"Heading out to meet a date, Kitty Kat?"

"I'm pretty sure that if I had a date, you would've known all about him before I do," she rolled her eyes back at the blonde's teasing. Her partner was sat up on her bed, and she had to remind herself that it wouldn't fall on her in her sleep. She practically prayed every night for it to remain sturdy. "And no, I'm heading off to the library to read."

"Boo. You're such a bookcat."

"Bookworm," she corrected.

"Nah. I meant what I said," of course she did. Either that, or she just never stopped to think on what she wanted to say before she just let them out.

"Uh-huh. If you need anything, just message me on my scroll."

Her teammates gave their responses, and she set off once she'd shut the door behind her, walking down the corridor towards one of the most unvisited locations of the academy, though the serious students and those who were doing some last-minute cram work would always frequent the place. Her? She just loved the atmosphere.

Miss Goodwitch is there at the desk still, greeting her with a firm nod before she returns to her work. Her walk takes her to a section of the library that is relatively secluded, and she isn't surprised to find a head of blond hair at the table that she'd personally claimed as her own 'territory'.

…God damn it, Yang's pun-making idiocy was beginning to infect her too. Next thing she knows, pigs are really going to rain from the sky.

"Jaune," she greeted, getting him to look up from a book he was reading and smile back at her. "Sorry for taking so long."

"Hey, Blake. And nah, don't worry about it. I just about got here myself," he waved her off.

"That so?" Her eyes glanced at the book in his hands. Not his. "Reading one of the library's books?"

"Yep. Trying to get some inspiration for the next story," he held up the book so that she could see the cover. It depicted the silhouette of two people, a man and a woman, holding each other by the hips and staring lovingly at each other—though their free hand was extended in the opposite direction, a gun in one's hand while a knife sat in the other's. "This one's a murder mystery, although it focuses more on the mystery aspect than it does anything else. It's a good read, but eh."

"Not your thing, huh?" His nod made her hum. Well, to each their own.

"In any case, my short story!" He pulled out his notebook and presented it on the table. Coloured sticky notes stuck out from the top edge, likely bookmarking each individual story. "This one is called The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas."

"The ones who—That's a pretty long title."

"Hah, yeah. I couldn't figure out a shorter name," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "But I really think you'll like it… Hopefully. I don't know yet. To be honest, I'm still new to all of this writing stuff. Plus, this one isn't horror, so it's definitely a different taste. But I thought I might as well just give it a shot."

"Don't worry too much over it. I'm sure it'll be good. May I?"

With his permission, she took his book into her hands and flipped it to the third bookmarked page. The whole page had the title written on it in stylized, capital letters, making her snort in amusement. Flipping to the next page, Blake begins her reading in earnest.

The story takes her to a fictional city by the name of Omelas, as mentioned in the title. There's a summer festival going on, and the faunus girl is drawn in by the merry occasions going on in that single moment; horse-riding, music, singing, and the toll of bells in the background. The day is filled with cheer, as the laughter of both children and elderly fill the air.

This single moment… she embraces it. So many sounds and so many colours fill her mind's eye, and she's left recalling old memories of herself, long when she was a little girl running through Menagerie during a celebration. When times were simpler and she could run free all around the place without thinking about anything else.

She thinks of her parents—god, she misses them. How they loved her so, how they would let her play about as they worked for the people's betterment. Her friends, little as they may have been, close to her heart and giving her much reason to dream of a better future for the faunus.

"Amazing…" She whispered. "This Omelas… sounds like a paradise."

Jaune didn't bother with a reply, opting to leave her to learn more of its simple wonders. It's a city with which there was so much ambiguity regarding its system, though it was clear that it was lacking in many things that their current day kingdoms possess. Things like a king, or weaponry, or slaves. And there was also no stock exchange, advertisement, some secret police force, and bombs. No idea why that last part was mentioned at all, but she supposed it was necessary.

After all, many of the things the city did not possess was directly related to warfare and protection. The fact that the city did not need any of those things was just a sign of its beautiful peace. Something that truly does sound amazing if it ever exists in their world.

No war. No prejudice. Just everyone living in harmony.

…Then again, there are the Grimm. That's another thing to consider.

Although, ignoring this surreal wonder that Jaune had created, she was more interested in his new approach with this story. Of course, it's an actual short story with whole paragraphs, but the writing had also taken on a more poetic style. One that evokes the feel of a historical text, and which is far more intricate and flowery than the first two report-styled stories she read, which were more straight-to-the-point and scientific.

As she walks amongst the crowd to taste all kinds of fruits and meats and cheeses they have to offer, she reaches Green Fields. It's a vast stretch of green meadows upon which children, both boys and girls, run about naked underneath the dark blue morning firmament. Their lack of embarrassment reminds her of a holy book, of which the first chapter mentioned something about the creation of the first human man and faunus woman.

The children run about, some to ride their decorated horses and train them in preparation for the race. Almost all of the people have reached the meadows to witness the event, red and blue tents scattered everywhere. Everyone is enjoying their moment here, and she's standing there with them, basking in the bright sun and the winds that kiss her cheeks.

Someone's voice is frail, but cheery, and little Blake finds herself skipping over to find the source. Her chest warms at the sight of a little old woman, her lips peeled in a wide smile as she passes out flowers from a basket to everyone. Those that go to the hands of young men end up in her long silvery hair, turned into ornaments of some form. She is happy, and they are just happy.

'Oh… Someone's playing a song,' she thought to herself, watching a child in the distance play his flute. It's an airy tune that lasts for a little while before inevitability demands he put down his instrument.

The silence is immediately followed by the glorious sound of trumpets. Horses at the starting line neighed and stamped their hooves against the ground, as their riders give encouraging words to their steeds. And then, they charge off, as the crowds erupt into a cacophony of cheer. The Festival of Summer has begun.

What is this story? Blake meets Jaune's eyes for a moment, although she's unable to gather anything from his neutral gaze—well, he's smiling at her, but that's likely from the fact that she's enjoying his story so much. She rolled her eyes back, making him chuckle quietly.

'Well, Jaune said that this is psychology. I don't think that actually means anything bad, per se. Just related to it.'

And then, all of a sudden, the scene and the paragraph is separated from the next by a single line. One that has her quirking a brow.

Do you believe? Do you accept the festival, the city, the joy? No? Then let me describe one more thing.

'One more thing? What could he…'

Blake is no longer in the Green Fields, laughing with the masses. Instead, she finds herself going down a hidden flight of stairs. It's located in a beautiful public building, but with the low number of people in this particular area, it seemed almost impossible for anyone to accidentally stumble upon this place.

But that single line, and the paragraph that comes after, guides her to this place. All the joy she'd been a part of spills through her fingers like sand.

She sees it. A single room with only one door, locked, and no window. Blake manages to go inside. Soil sticks to her feet, damp, while some light pour through the cracks in the panels, highlighting the dust in the air. She looks around, finding nothing but a few things; a mop, buckets and the like in one corner. There is little else.

Blake reels back from the musky scent of rotten wood and mould in the air. It made her stomach roll. She wanted to leave, but she knows she can't, for why else would Jaune's story take her here otherwise?

'What is the purpose of this room..?' She thought to herself, trying to understand just why this place existed. It was so incredibly different from the rest of Omelas that it felt like she'd stepped into a completely new world. One that was devoid of joy and was only three paces long and two paces wide, dirty and cold and—

"Eh-haa… Eh-haa…"

Her heart stopped. Her eyes began to water. Her hands began to ball up. Her stomach began to twist. Her throat began to clamp up.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she meets the creature in the eyes—only to realize too slowly that it was no monster, but a child. A child of which the gender she could no longer distinguish. It's sitting there, in the corner of the room that was the furthest from the mops and buckets, and she had only a moment to wonder how she had never seen it before. It looked stupid. Debilitated. Picking at its genitals and toes from time to time as its head gazed lazily here and there.

The door is locked; and nobody will come. The door is always locked; and nobody ever comes.

Except that wasn't true. In fact, a person or a group of them might come to this room at least once a day to give it food and water, forcing the door open with far more force than necessary. One of them is a bastard, striding towards the child and kicking it to make it stand up. She grits her teeth at the display, but knows that the others are no better.

They stand there, gazes filled with horror and disgust, as they stared at the malnourished, abused child.

'They come just to give it food and water. Afterwards, they just lock the door and leave..? Just like that?'

Blake can see the child. It's so pale. Naked. The skin of its buttocks and thighs have all but become festered sores, blistered and with rashes from the constant exposure to its piss and shit every single day. There is no hygiene. No mercy. No good meals; corn meal and grease a day?

"I will be good..!" Her heart aches at a memory that flashes through her head. A flashback scene of sorts, of which the child, prior to his entrapment and torture and misfeeding, was able to speak so well. "Please let me out. I will be good!"

The child just wanted to see their mother again. Wanted to feel the sun on their skin, just as she had before she descended into this horrible place.

The child would scream themself hoarse every night, hoping that someone would come and rescue them from this horrible place. Its screams reverberate down her bones as she hears it ring across the walls. But days upon days of exposure to abuse had taken away its mental capacity. Had ruined it. And now, it simply articulates like a dying person, and talks so much less than it should have.

'God… This is so fucked up…'

This, she realizes, is the dirty, dark secret of the beautiful city of Omelas. That, to be a utopia for its people—for them to have happiness every single day, for their continuous health, for their harvests to be bountiful and their skies of pleasant weather—one would be chosen. One would have to suffer from its birth to death. Its happiness, for everyone else's.

All of a sudden, she realizes that the people who'd come with the warden to see the child were, shockingly, children just like her. Between the ages of eight to twelve, they would be told of this room's existence. And then, they would be forced to confront the black sheep, and their very world collapses around them.

'Isn't there anything they could do for the child..?' She desperately hoped that there was such a solution. That this suffering could actually end.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be. The suffering of one single person to guarantee everyone else's happiness was far too important. And even if they wanted to take it out, what was the point? It had been mentally damaged to such an extent that there was no way it could return to normal life again.

That… and the fact that should it ever be free, then Omelas would lose its blessing—or curse, whichever way one would want to see it.

Blake thinks of the merry festival underway. She thinks of the vibrant colours, of the smiling children as they run about without any concern for the future. She thinks of the good fortune that comes to the people, thinks of how good the marriages and celebrations had been.

To take away the child from that awful room, Omelas would immediately lose everything. The utopia it was would immediate be lost. Those were the terms.

Blake winced hard, trying to think on the logistics of this. Should one take the utilitarianism route, whereby the action itself is all that mattered and the child should never have been condemned to begin with; or should one adopt the deontological mindset, of which the greater good meant more than the suffering of one person?

She had never thought too hard on this approach before, but realizing now the severity of the issue, she… she didn't know. What was the right decision here?

Eventually, finally done watching the broken child, she leaves the room in a fit of angry tears. She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from crying there and then, refusing to look back even a little as she and the other young people walk out with her. They are just as horrified, just as upset, and they return to their homes to brood over this situation. To think over the injustice of this situation, and to realize that their easy livelihoods relied on its suffering.

And then, they would come to terms with it. They would be angry, still but there would be nothing that could be done. For years, they will simply live with that knowledge, and be prepared to pull away the wool over their coming children's eyes. And that cycle would continue until Omelas would someday perish.

Someone's hand came to sit on hers. Blake almost pulled back, but returning to reality for another moment, she's able to catch the comforting gaze of her friend through watery eyes.

"I-I'm fine," she manages to say as she rubs away at her eyes with the back of her wrist. "Sorry…"

"Yeah. Me too," why was he apologizing? "I… didn't think it would be that impactful."

Neither did she, but even now, she cannot rid her mind of that broken child. Was there ever a place here on Remnant that worked on such a principle as well? She dreaded the possibility of such; both because she would be so revolted by the inhumanity, but also by the thought that to take that away would be to doom the civilians.

Do the right thing, or do nothing. Both with drastic consequences that affected the lives of thousands.

Her hands were shaking, heart clenched tight. Was what the real answer?

She shook her head with a little more force than necessary, returning her attention to the book. It is nearing the end now, and though she sits down on a swing to contemplate that which she had seen, she notices someone else walking past her.

Where are you going? She might have asked if she truly was a part of that world.

The person doesn't answer, but his eyes are… hardened. His posture is stiff. There's something about him that she's both intrigued by and afraid of, watching him all the while.

And it isn't just him. There are adolescents of varying ages, adults, and even an elder woman. They never walk together as a group, preferring to go on their own separate ways. Throughout the differing times of day. Always in the night.

But always, they walk down the streets until the reach the very edge of Omelas. Through the beautiful arcing gate, they walk through—and they walk straight out. Past that was the farmlands, and they walk on the road whereby gold spreads out all around them. And in the darkness of the moonlit sky, they pass the village streets, and head off in their own ways. West, perhaps, or north, towards the Eighteen Peaks.

They just… kept going. Kept walking, farther and farther away, until they leave Omelas behind them completely.

The book makes no description of what laid beyond the city. If anything, it is described as 'a place even less imaginable to most of us than the city of happiness'. A sense of ambiguity that left her to fill in a complete blank on her own. A place perhaps so different, or terrifying, or dangerous, or one that doesn't exist to begin with.

But they seem to know where they are going, the ones who walk away from Omelas.

The story completed, she shut the book, and found herself letting out a deep breath. Jaune's hand finds hers again, but she recognizes it for what it was; not a romantic gesture, but simply of support. To give her some form of comfort in the knowledge that he was here for her.

God, she needed it really badly.

"Go ahead," he whispered, gentle, as his thumb rubbed circles around her palm. "Let it out."

Let it out? What, he wanted her to just up and cry in the library? While Goodwitch was still here? She almost barked out a laugh if it hadn't come out as a weak sobbing sound.

With practised ease, likely because he'd have been in this very same position for one of his sisters or had needed some relief himself, he gently pulled her by the head to let her lean against his shoulder, rubbing her back after in slow strokes.

That was the breaking point.

Blake started crying. Nothing the kind of which was loud bawling by any means, but little sniffling and shaking shoulders that which was born by painful memories. Were these even memories to begin with? She had simply peered into another world as a spectator, so there was no way she would have felt this attached to them.

But she had not simply walked into Omelas as some traveller. She had pictured herself born there, of nine years old as she rummaged with the kids and met the broken gaze of their city's prisoner. She had completely thrown herself into the world to better embrace its story, to better empathize and enjoy it all.

And here she'd thought to come out being scared. Instead, she'd been given a taste of wonderful joy and earth-shattering guilt. Talk about insane.


Author's Notes:

Was this chapter weird? I don't know. Maybe not 'psychological' in some sense? Certainly more drama than I expected, lmao.

First off, a big thanks for all the warm reception towards this story. This is nothing more but a fun little project, but I'm glad to know that you guys enjoy it all the same. Big appreciation!

The only reason I discovered this short story to begin with was because it got referenced in Spring Day. I read a little bit more about in Google News, then went to check out the story for myself. It's apparently part of a collection of short stories.

Blake's complete shock at the sudden shift in tone and nature was exactly how I felt, going from cheery sunshine to complete psychological horror literally the next paragraph. And really, sure, it's just a story. But some people have a tendency of imagining themselves in that situation to feel more absorbed into the story, and it's at those times when the stories can hurt way more when they want to.

Hell, I remember a few times when I've read a fanfic story or two and gotten emotional over things. It's all about imagining those scenes in your head, and you start to feel bad when something happens, and you just get a little emotional. Completely normal, I would say.

Personally, I'm not sure if I would be happy living in a city like Omelas. Oh, sure, it's got the best of everything, but someone has to suffer for it? That doesn't seem inherently fair, both for me and the family of the child chosen. What, am I meant to ignore it so long as its not my child taken, but it's okay if it's someone else's? No. That's fucked up, and I'd rather build up my own happiness with my own two hands.